Drat! I Can’t Wear Hats

Thoreau said, “Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes.” I, on the other hand, avoid any enterprise that requires a new hat.  Some women look adorable in hats, batting their eyelashes coquettishly under the brim. I look as if I’m balancing either a pizza box or an alien spacecraft on my head.   

Sadly, for someone who looks peculiar in hats, I have a severe case of hat lust. In department stores I can’t resist browsing in the hat department. Just last week I spied a woven beauty with a black band. It whispered to me: “Put me on your head, and you’ll be the cutest little trick this side of the Mason-Dixon.”

I said, “No. I’ve been burned before. Hats and I don’t get along.”

The hat continued to cajole. “But you’ve never tried on me before. This time it’ll be different.  Look at me. I’m your hat soul mate.”    

My heart raced with wild hope but as soon as I perched it on my head and gazed into the mirror, my relationship with the hat went rapidly downhill.

“Maybe if you tilt me at a rakish angle?” the hat said.

I did as I was told and the hat shrieked, “Even worse! Take me off before anyone sees or I’ll never find a home.”

To compound my difficulties, I’m in a mixed marriage. My husband looks dashing in hats and has an entire hat wardrobe ranging from an Indiana Jones-style fedora to a Greek fisherman cap. When we started dating I tried to conceal my hat deficiencies from him as long as possible, but then we went on a beach trip together. While we were browsing in the souvenir shop he said, “You should pick out a sun hat to wear.”

“No, thank you.”

“How about this one?” He selected a seemingly harmless straw hat. “You’ll look great.”

“No, Please. I beg of you.”

Before I could stop him, the dreaded hat was on my head. He drew back, surprised. “Whoa. Definitely not that one.”

It was confession time. “I’m sorry,” I said. “None of these hats will work for me. I’m hat-challenged.”

He picked up a newsboy cap. “Not even this one?”

“Especially that one. Trust me. There are some sights the eye can’t unsee.” 

He married me despite my affliction, but he’s never asked me to try on a hat again.   

Yes, it’s a disadvantage not being able to wear hats.  I can’t go on an African safari because I look ridiculous in a pitch helmet, and I’ll never be a royal princess because I look even worse in fascinators than I do in hats. Whenever I don a fascinator it looks as if I have a fancy beribboned growth protruding from my head, one that begs to be surgically removed.

Then again, I never suffer from hat hair or bee-infested bonnets. And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll find the perfect hat for me, but in the mean time, don’t look for me at any Derby Day parties.

This article appears in the May 2017 issue of Augusta Magazine.

Have feedback or a story idea? Our publisher would love to hear from you!

11 + 8 =


RSS Augusta Magazine’s Front Porch

  • Episode 11: Jay Jefferies
    Jay Jefferies stops by to deliver the weather and much more!
  • Episode 10 - Nesia Wright
    We had the pleasure of sitting down with Nesia Wright, owner and CEO of the Georgia Soul Basketball Team. Ashlee and Nesia discuss life as the owner of a basketball team, retirement and more.
  • Episode 9: Venus Morris Griffin
    Venus Morris Griffin, one of the top real estate agents in the Augusta area, stops by our front porch to talk about her success and her upcoming book. This episode is sure to set a fire in you to go for your dreams!
  • Episode 8: Michael Romano
    Michael Romano, self-proclaimed carbohydrate king and executive pastry chef for Edgar's Hospitality Group stopped by our front porch to chat with Ashlee.


Previous Issues

Related Articles

Lost in Translation

Lost in Translation

Facebook sent me a message the other day saying I’d been on it for ten years. At the beginning of my relationship with Mark Zuckerberg’s addicting brainchild, my posts were fairly straightforward. Sometimes I’d share charming and poignant details about my daily life....

For Whom The Bell Tolls

For Whom The Bell Tolls

My phone rarely rings. When I was a teenager that would have been a fate worse than running out of Clearasil. A ringing phone was the sound of popularity. There was nothing better than hearing that joyful jangle, followed by your little brother hollering, “It’s for...

Presence is Better Than Presents

Presence is Better Than Presents

It’s gift giving season again, a time fraught with angst for those of us who find ourselves wandering in the Circle K at midnight on Christmas Eve, wondering if we can just get everyone Jumbo Slim Jims and be done with it. The trouble is, a gift isn’t simply a gift....